


What Greater Gift

by aliatori



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Smut, M/M, ratings vary by chapter - check the summaries for more info
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 20:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori/pseuds/aliatori
Summary: A collection of prompt fills as a thank you for 400 followers.





	1. Cor/Gladio - Gratitude

“This seems familiar,” Cor remarks drily, the aloofness of his tone at odds with the piercing intensity of his eyes. They rove over Gladio with such meticulousness that Cor must think the scrutiny will heal Gladio better than the (diluted) hi-potion did.

Gladio grins, shrugs, and then, after considering that maybe a display of remorse might be in order given he single handedly tried to take on several iron giants at once (and paid for it), grins _wider_. “Been years since…” Gladio almost says _since you_ and then thinks better of it, “since anyone waited by my bedside. I miss a patrol shift or something?”

“You did.” A beat, the most subtle of shifts as Cor sits cross armed in the chair next to Gladio’s shitty infirmary cot. “It was taken care of.”

As Gladio studies Cor in return, his grin falters. Cor’s dirty fatigues, his sword propped against the wall beside him, the dark circles under his eyes, and the 5 o’clock shadow between the maintained sections of his beard all add up to one conclusion: it was taken care of by _Cor_.

“You didn’t have to,” Gladio says, sitting up straighter on his cot, abandoning the impossible task of getting truly comfortable before it begins.

“I really did,” Cor replies. For as many times as Gladio’s heard Cor referred to as a stone cold bastard—or worse—a rare warmth suffuses the three words. After a moment, Cor continues. “Just because you did something rash doesn’t change the fact there’s a city to protect.” Yeah, there’s the no nonsense approach, back in full swing.

Gladio’s mouth falls open and shut. He doesn’t know what to say, not really—Cor knows him better than anyone on the entire, shadowed surface of Eos, so the logical conversation that would follow seems pointless. Instead, Gladio’s reaches out for Cor’s knee, an easy reach in such cramped quarters, and smiles.

“Thanks.”

Cor rests his warm, calloused hand on top of Gladio’s, and the gesture fills his chest with all the heat of a radiant, self-contained sunrise.

“You’re welcome.”


	2. Nyx/Gladio - Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** E  
>  **Tags:** just two bros in love

Nyx had exactly one intelligible thought as Gladio rode him like Nyx was the last person he’d ever fuck on Six-damned planet: they _really_ should have done this sooner.

Nyx had _no_ intelligible thoughts when Gladio came untouched on said cock, flushed and moaning and making a sticky mess of both of them.

Now, he watches Gladio in the afterglow, marveling at his unguarded enthusiasm. _Youth_ , he thinks, sweeping aside a filament of memory from a different time, a time when he could be more raw, more open. Nyx catches a flash of partially finished tattoo as Gladio flips from back to side and makes eye contact, grinning like a damn idiot. When Nyx’s gaze travels a bit, roaming over sweat sheened skin and flexed muscles and ruddy cheeks, Gladio’s grin becomes a smirk.

“Ready to go again?” Gladio rumbles, one broad hand stroking Nyx from shoulder to waist.

Nyx laughs and gives Gladio a gentle shove, the bed rocking with their combined weight. “Some of us are twenty one and eager, and some of us are… not,” Nyx says, the last word falling flat. His vanity won’t let him say _older_ even though it’s true.

“Just say you’re old as shit.”

Old as shit?

The element of surprise might be the only reason Nyx gets the upper hand, rolling Gladio onto his back and straddling his hips in one fell swoop, pinning Gladio’s arms over his head. The surprise and arousal that floods Gladio’s eyes is worth bearing the insult to his pride.

“Could someone who’s _old as shit_ do that?” Nyx purrs, lowering his face until his lips are nearly touching Gladio’s.

Gladio surges up and kisses Nyx, a bruising, urgent affair, body straining and buckling under Nyx’s vice like grip. 

Nyx doesn’t think Gladio’s _really_ trying to get free, because if he were, he’s pretty sure he could manage it. As they continue to kiss, as Nyx feels Gladio’s cock stir against his thigh, he has one intelligible thought: he’s got his work cut out for him.

So much for enjoying that afterglow.


	3. Gladio/Luna - Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the universe of [This Too Is Sacred.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304331/chapters/30448791)
> 
>  **Rating:** M  
>  **Tags:** Massage & relaxation

Lunafreya nó Cereus should have made her visit to Balm House _much_ sooner.

“That feels wonderful, Gladiolus,” she murmured, grateful that she was well enough acquainted with Gladiolus for his name to come easily to her lips, although most other D’Angeline seemed to elude her grasp at present.

“For you, maybe. Don’t think I didn’t notice you pushing our assignation back twice,” Gladiolus replied.

Whatever reply Lunafreya had dissolved in a soft, involuntary moan as Gladiolus’s skillful fingers worked a knot of tension in her shoulders. Between his talented ministrations and his deep, rich laughter, Lunafreya re-learned one of Naamah’s many forms of bliss at one of her adept’s hands.

“There’s been much to consider as of late. If it’s any consolation, my delay was in no way a slight to your company. I’ve missed this,” Lunafreya murmured, her eyes still closed where her head rested against a plush pillow.

“So have I.”

Once Gladiolus had rid Lunafreya of the damnable knot in her shoulders, her body melted, muscles become more languid and relaxed the longer Gladiolus worked. Inevitably, as their assignations often went, Lunafreya’s blood began to stir, tension replaced by an arousal as familiar to her as the love of the goddess she served.

Rolling over to her back, Lunafreya smiled up at Gladiolus, gentle and caring. The heat pooling between her legs only grew in intensity at the sight of Gladiolus’ arousal, thick and straining towards his belly.

“If I could ask one last thing of you…” Lunafreya murmured, the timbre of her voice as delicate as her House’s canon, one hand extended gracefully towards Gladiolus.

“I was hoping you would.”

When Gladiolus lifted her hips and slid inside her, their bodies joined in worship, it was _then_ that Lunafreya knew true bliss.


	4. Gladio & Regis - Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G  
>  **Tags:** Death, grieving

Regis, who has watched Gladio grow from tiny babe to sprawling youth, who entrusts the same young man with his own son’s life and training, cannot look Gladio in the eyes as he begins to address the small crowd gathered in the throne room.

“As many of you are aware, Celosia Amicitia passed away yesterday evening in the comfort of her home, surrounded by her friends and family,” Regis begins. Speaking the words illuminates Clarus’ absence, his broad presence so often two steps behind him to the left, serious and stoic. “The public announcement of her memorial will be drafted and disseminated tomorrow. However, in the meantime, Lord Amicitia has asked for three days of bereavement leave, which I have granted under extenuating circumstances.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd. Regis pauses to allow them time to process the information. Permitting a Shield any sort of leave of absence is practically unheard of, but given that Clarus has stood by his side through the decades, asking nothing, Regis granted him his request. As he scans the assembled Crownsguard and Kingsglaive, his gaze falls on Gladio.

Regis is all too familiar with the false front of someone struggling with grief, and he recognizes that strain in Gladio, a strain that makes him appear even older than his 14 years.

Once the susurrus of whispers quiets, Regis continues. “Marshal Leonis will be temporarily assuming Lord Amicitia’s role as Captain until his return. Lieutenant Elshett will cover the Marshal’s own responsibilities in that time. The rest of you have been informed of the shift in your duties. Any questions can be directed to Crownsguard administration.”

Regis, whose lifeforce is devoured by the Crystal with each passing day, whose body betrays him at every turn, has to pause to regain control of his voice. The waver isn’t caused by the fact that Celosia was a friend, or even the fact that the loss reminds him so much of Aulea’s passing, but Gladio’s face, blank and controlled.

Selfishly, he is glad Noctis never knew his mother, if only so he never learned this pain.

“Dismissed,” Regis says simply, and after a round of salutes, the crowd dissipates. When Gladio turns to leave, he calls out after him. “Gladiolus. A moment, please.”

It takes Regis far too long to navigate down the many stairs leading up to the throne, leg brace creaking with each step, but he does, torturous pace be damned. Gladio waits for him, the perfect picture of military etiquette, standing at attention with a completely dry face.

“I wanted to offer you my condolences personally,” Regis says, reaching one hand out to clasp Gladio’s shoulder. “If you’d like to join your father on his bereavement leave…”

“No!” The word comes out sharp, fast, in a voice deeper than Regis remembered. “I mean, sorry, Your Majesty, but I’m fine.”

Regis tilts his head to the side. “There’s no shame in grieving, Gladiolus. It’s human.”

Gladio considers, eyes narrowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty, but I’m fit for duty.”

Fourteen or not, there’s nothing left for Regis to do but allow Gladio his dignity. He releases his grip on Gladio’s shoulder and nods. “I’ll tell Ignis to escort Noctis for training at his usual time.”

As Gladio finally departs from the throne room, Regis allows himself one sigh, a sigh of a father, one that encompasses the full depth of his sorrow for all the children aged too soon by war and loss—children like Gladio.

And then he goes back to being a king.


	5. Cor/Nyx - Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G  
>  **Tags:** Vehicular safety concerns

“I’m not getting on that deathtrap.”

“Really, Marshal? Deathtrap?” Nyx asks with a laugh, revving the engine just a little, because he can and because the completely unamused look on Cor’s face is worth the wasted gas.

“With you driving? Yes.”

If he didn’t know better, Nyx would choose this moment to make a Cor the Immortal joke, but it’s low-hanging fruit and a bit of a sore spot for Cor (if his gut is right, which it usually is). “Fine. Enjoy your lengthy commute home on the metro, because yeah, I saw your empty parking space back at the Citadel and know you left the clunker at home.”

Cor snorts and folds his arms over his chest. “Clearly you need a fuller schedule if you have time to perform reconnaissance on the parking garage.”

Nyx scoops up the spare helmet he brought and wiggles it in Cor’s direction. “I even brought a spare. Safety first and all that. Can’t have Cor Leonis dying in a motorcycle accident or whatever.”

Persistence usually does the trick with Cor. He takes a few long strides towards Nyx’s bike and accepts the helmet. “If you think I secretly enjoy this, you’re sorely mistaken,” he says.

“I don’t think you secretly enjoy this—I think you secretly _love_ it. Kinda like me, don’t you think?”

“At least no one will recognize me,” Cor snarks, sliding on the helmet and settling behind Nyx. For all the teasing, Cor has no problem cozying up to Nyx on the bike, his arms firmly wrapped around Nyx’s midsection.

“Thank the Six for small mercies, right?” Nyx fires back.

As soon as Cor squeezes his waist, his silent signal to Nyx that he’s ready to go, Nyx punches the gas and roars out of the parking lot into the Insomnian night.


	6. Ignis/Noctis - Simmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** E  
>  **Tags:** D/s dynamics, orgasm denial, possessiveness

Noct has kept Ignis at a deadly simmer all night. He spent an entire Council meeting with a ring around his cock, a vibrator in his ass, and sporadic orders to touch himself underneath the table—orders Noct expected to be obeyed.

He is a king, after all. More importantly than that, he’s Ignis’ Dom, and he is to be obeyed.

The whole evening blurs the lines between punishment and reward, but that liminal space is one Ignis enjoys, one he falls into gracefully now, wrists and ankles bound to the bedposts, wantonly spread and pliant to Noct’s every whim.

Through a thick haze of desire, Ignis watches as Noct’s fist moves up and down his cock, lips falling open in a round ‘o’ of pleasure the longer he works. The damnable vibrator is still going inside Ignis, Noct’s phone off to the side and untouched for several minutes.

“You’ve been so good for me tonight, Ignis. Do you want me to help you come?” Noct asks, quiet, soft, and Ignis swears that he’s drowning in the deep twilight of Noct’s eyes.

“Please, oh Six, _please_ , Your Grace. I need you,” Ignis breathes. In this position, there’s absolutely nothing he can do about his swollen arousal, flushed a deep red and dribbling a steady trickle of precome. Noct’s positioning of the vibrator was clever, too clever, clever enough that Ignis has teetered on the edge of climax all night long. As much as it would have humiliated (and satisfied) him to come in his slacks in front of the Council, he’s glad he didn’t, because his instructions were clear.

Not until Noct says.

When Noct wraps a slick hand around Ignis’s cock, he gives a long, broken moan, his breath hitching in the middle. He hasn’t been touched all night, and the fact that it’s _Noct_ touching him, that the pleasure sparking along every nerve comes from his king, it’s too much.

After a few firm strokes, Noct’s hand falls still. “Who do you belong to?” he asks, and Ignis’ back arches of its own accord at the question.

“I belong to you—” Ignis begins, his words lost in another groan as Noct begins jerking him off again, pumping his cock in exactly the rhythm Ignis enjoys. “Your Grace, I’m yours, I’ve always been yours, thank you, _thank you_.” He’s babbling and he knows it, but with the simmer of desire having grown to an outright boil, he doesn’t care.

He comes with a loud, hoarse cry, his entire body straining against the restraints as his muscles jerk and twitch. He wants to watch Noct’s face, he does, but he can’t keep his eyes open, wave after wave of pleasure flooding his body in delightful bliss.

“You’re so perfect, so good for me,” Noct murmurs, and the warmth Ignis feels at the words rivals the intensity of his orgasm. There’s a familiar weight on his chest, and when Ignis opens his eyes, Noct is straddling him, his erection bobbing in front of his mouth.

“But you have one more thing to do for me,” Noct says, holding the base of his cock in one hand and rubbing it against Ignis’s bottom lip. “I think you know what it is.”

Ignis does.


	7. Gladio/Ignis - Ablution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the universe of [nothing gold can stay.](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1078986)
> 
>  **Rating:** G  
>  **Tags:** Religious ceremonies, fluff

Gladio knows of the Six, but in Kilika, they only worship the Archaean, patron deity of earthshifters, god of the land. When Ignis suggested taking him to the temples of the other five, geographically situated across Insomnia, Gladio jumped at the chance.

He wasn’t expecting _this_.

From the outside, the Tidemother’s temple appeared fairly modest, its circular exterior composed of slate grey stone. On the inside, however…

“Rather stunning, isn’t it?” Ignis asks.

“Yeah… yeah, you could say that.”

As soon as Gladio enters the temple, Ignis at his side, his ears are filled with the sound of rushing water. Now that he’s past the wide, wooden doors, he can see the semi-circular fountain spilling from the balustrade, a continuous waterfall with no discernable source. A balcony rests behind the source of the water, priests and priestesses roaming the hallways in their deep blue robes.

“Follow me,” Ignis says, beckoning Gladio with elegant fingers, and Gladio happily follows.

The narrow aisle that serves as the entry to the temple gradually widens into the temple proper, but Ignis doesn’t continue into the open space. Instead, he diverts to the left, where a wide, shallow basin of crystal clear water resides.

“It’s customary to perform ablutions before entering the Tidemother’s temple,” Ignis explains, pupilless emerald eyes swirling in the soft light of the space. “It’s also tradition for someone else to perform the ablutions for you,” he adds, a slight blush colouring sharp cheekbones and pale cheeks. “Would you like me to demonstrate?”

“Sure,” Gladio says.

Ignis dips one curved palm into the basin of water, a shallow pool gathered in his hands. When he lifts his hand up, Gladio bends down, instinctually meeting Ignis halfway. Ignis pours the modest amount of water over his head, and then trails three fingers down Gladio’s face from forehead to lips, the tips of them slippery and wet. The water is pleasantly warm, and though Gladio wonders how practical this ritual is in Lucis’ winter, he appreciates the gesture.

“Would you be so kind as to repeat the ablutions for me?”

Gladio’s heart beats one furious beat before settling. “Of course.”

He repeats the gesture for Ignis, cupping his hand in the basin and gently tipping the contents of his hand over Ignis’ head, running his fingers gently down Ignis’ face. If Ignis minds the way the water flattens his hair or soaks through the thin, stretched fabric of his shirt, he doesn’t say anything.

“Didn’t figure you for the religious type,” Gladio ventures. He’s spent long enough around Ignis to feel comfortable broaching the subject.

“I’m not, generally. However…” Ignis takes off his glasses and cleans them on a dry sleeve before returning them to his face. “The Tidemother’s blessing reflects absolution, a literal and figurative washing away of your ill deeds and sorrows. I find personal satisfaction in the ritual.”

As curious as Gladio is about what Ignis could have done that needs washing away, he decides not to pry, figuring Ignis will tell him more when the time is right. “Makes sense.” Gladio gestures to the temple at large. “Lead the way.”

“Certainly.”


	8. Gladio/Noct - Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Tags:** Fluff, Noctis never wants to wake up even as a king

“C’mon, _Your Majesty._ ”

Noctis groans, rolls over, and buries his face in one of his many pillows. “Go away, Gladio.”

“I didn’t bust my ass for ten years to spend my mornings getting you out of bed. Up and at ‘em , Princess.”

There’s no stopping the grin that spreads across Noctis’ face, hidden by the pillow. Gladio has a point—after ten years in the Crystal and saving the world, getting out of bed shouldn’t be this big of a task. A decade spent under Bahamut’s tutelage didn’t make Noctis any less fond of sleep, though.

“Don’t I run this country? Appointments can wait.”

Gladio laughs. The laugh is followed by a shove to Noctis’ blanketed shoulder. “You’ve been making a pretty good impression so far. Don’t screw it up.”

Noctis finally unburies his face from the pillow and turns to regard Gladio. His Shield is already dressed in his formal attire, hair slicked back and braided, beard immaculately trimmed. Knowing Gladio, he probably went for a run or some other workout beforehand, so who knows how long he’s _really_ been up. He looks good, though. Looks great.

“You could just come back to bed for another hour,” Noctis suggests, all false innocence, stretching his arms over his head in an effort to chase the stiffness from his limbs.

“Uh uh. This shit took way too long to get into. You don’t get out of bed soon and we’ll both be late for your first meeting.” Gladio sits on the edge of the bed. “You know they make alarm clocks, right?”

Noctis smiles. “Maybe I just like hearing your voice,” he admits.

“That’s not what you usually say,” Gladio counters, but he leans down and touches his forehead to Noctis’ anyway, and Noctis falls in love with him all over again in a single moment.

“Better enjoy it while it lasts, then.”

Noctis doesn’t manage to coax Gladio back into bed, but he does get a slow, tender kiss, Gladio’s tongue soft and gentle against his own, and he decides that’s good enough.

For now.


	9. Gladio/Ignis - Afterwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the events of between the [shadow and the soul.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13089534/chapters/29945142)
> 
>  **Rating:** G  
>  **Tags:** Just romance, man

Gladio,

As I begin the introduction to this missive, I have the privilege of a quiet morning and nothing but time to study you, peaceably tangled in every blanket the bed has to offer and snoring ever so softly. At the risk of sounding a touch awkward, I must say that I’ve always enjoyed watching you sleep—one of the only advantages to these bouts of insomnia I’m prone to.

Though you make every effort to bear your burdens—and the burdens of others, mine included, because you are strong and generous in equal parts—with a smile, I’ve known you far too long, far too _intimately_ not to notice the miniscule signs of the strain it places on you. Sleep erases all trace of hardship from your features, granting you a tranquil mien rarely seen in your waking hours.

I treasure every moment with you, but these moments, the ones so few get to see… they’re the ones I treasure most. 

As the date of our wedding grows closer and closer, I’ve become engrossed in memory. I pray you don’t think me a copycat for choosing to gift you with a letter of my own in celebration of our marriage. After reading and re-reading your proposal more times than I could possibly count, I fear there was no denying the inspiration that plagued me day and night. My words may not be as eloquently arranged as your own, nor as heart wrenching in their directness, and for that I will ask your forgiveness.

We’ve spoken in couched phrases and half truths about what events transpired during our separation, and I feel mostly strongly that, before we’re wed in earnest, you deserve the _full_ truth, not one grazed by with polite euphemisms and strong filters.

You have ever been the romantic between the two of us, but to begin, I’ll start with the axiom that has guided my actions for many years: I love you. With each new breath I draw into my lungs, with each beat of my heart, my love for you grows. I am beyond excited for us to embark on this new chapter of our journey together, and I hope you appreciate this letter for the gift it is.

For now, however, the idea of stealing an hour or two of sleep seems most appealing—if I can manage to wrest the blankets from your grasp.

With deepest love,  
Ignis  



	10. Cor/Aranea - Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Tags:** Just battle couple feels

A slight miscalculation.

That was Aranea’s excuse for crash landing next to the Marshal off a high jump, earth shaking beneath her spear, the metal in her grip reverberating with the force of the fall. It wasn’t like she needed excuses—they’d never served her well, not when she was a lowly merc and not as Commodore. The truth was often easier, and in this instance, it was right in front of her face: Cor Leonis’ stern gaze, catching her off guard. Aranea was used to intensity, but the Immortal’s particular brand of ‘zero fucks given’ snatched the air straight from her lungs.

Not for long.

“You’re aware I’m not a hostile target.” Cor didn’t make the sardonic words a question, his piercing blue eyes threatening to pin her like a butterfly to a board.

“Then stay out of my way.” Aranea grinned, planted the butt end of her polearm firmly in the dirt, and executed a fast and graceful spin around it. It was a showier version of a leaping kick, but her boots landed in the face of the waiting daemon’s face just as effectively, snapping its neck and melting its corpse into smoky ichor. When gravity righted itself, she took up her lance once more in both hands.

“Tricks like that are an easy way to an early grave,” Cor deadpanned. Despite the monotone, his mouth gave the barest twitch.

“I’ve got plenty of tricks, Marshal. Ask me nicely and I may just show you them one day,” Aranea replied with a wink.

Before she could register Cor’s response, before she could examine the own flicker of desire deep in her chest, Aranea leapt into the air once more, soaring through it as comfortably as others would walk across solid ground.

Nothing, not even someone as deadly and vexing as the Marshal Cor Leonis, could keep Aranea from the sky—from freedom.

Not for long.


	11. Gladio/Noct - Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G  
>  **Tags:** Cuddles and stars

Nine times out of ten when they stop at a haven for the night, sleeping under the stars and illuminated in the soft glow of the protective runes, Noct heads into the tent before the rest of them, curled up into a ball and fast asleep by the time anyone follows.

Gladio lives for the ten percent.

Noct being Noct, he’s still asleep, but instead of hugging the side of the canvas tent, he’s slotted against Gladio’s side, eyes closed and phone still dangling from his hand. Go figure the two of them are the snorers—even now, Noct snores softly, the sound almost lost in the gentle crash of waves against the beach and the crackle of the campfire. Gladio plucks the phone out of Noct’s palm and hands it to Ignis, who chuckles quietly.

“Shall I help you wake him?” Ignis asks, all wry amusement.

“Nah. Dragging him out of bed for training in the morning will be enough of a hassle,” Gladio says, pitching his voice low.

Ignis quirks an eyebrow up. “Brave man.” But he doesn’t add anything else, choosing instead to go pack up the rest of the cookware for the night.

Prompto and Ignis head to sleep soon enough, which leaves Gladio alone outside with Noct. It’s a little chilly by the water and his leg is starting to cramp. A glance down at Noct, his lips slightly parted and features peaceful in sleep as they so rarely are in waking, makes the discomfort seem like a distant memory. Gladio soldiers on, because that’s what he’s trained his whole life to do.

It’s hard to find joy in anything since the Fall. But with Noct fast asleep and safe in his arms, with the campfire bathing them in warmth and light, he finds the barest sliver of it—and it’s enough.


	12. Nyx/Noctis - Secret Admirer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Tags:** Confessions, fluff

It starts with a fishing lure waiting on his desk.

“You take up a new hobby, Ulric?” Crowe asks, dangling the sapphire fish between her fingers.

“Not exactly,” Nyx answers with a roll of his eyes, extending one gloved hand palm up and motioning for Crowe to return the lure.

She does, but not without an infuriatingly knowing smirk. “I have to admit, this is by far the most creative present you’ve gotten from your many secret admirers. I bet I know who it is, too.”

“Crowe.”

“How you’re going to explain _this_ one to His Majesty, though…”

“ _Altius_.” Nyx sighs and pockets the fishing lure, tucking it into his jacket. He rakes a hand back through his hair before continuing. “I’m not in the habit of corrupting young, impressionable royalty.” A pause. “Well, not young, impressionable _princes_ who may very well be my boss someday.”

“He’s nearly 20, Nyx. And judging from how fast you went on the defensive…” Crowe lets the sentence hang heavy in the air with accusation before turning and _strutting_ out of his office, clearly pleased with herself.

Once she’s gone, Nyx allows himself a single, drawn out, emphatic _Six_ before starting to plan.

* * *

The fishing lure’s pivotal role continues.

With the Prince’s Shield otherwise occupied, Nyx volunteers for guard duty for the weekend, an occurrence that’s become far more habitual than he cares to admit. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel of his Crown issued vehicle as he waits for Scientia to bring his charge to the private Citadel parking reserved for the royal family.

Once he sees Scientia and Noct heading his way, he blows out one long breath before settling his lips into his habitual grin. Ignis opens the car door, gives Nyx a brief bow, and disappears like a well-dressed ghost.

It’s Noct’s smile that did him in, really—the same subdued, shy smile he gives Nyx now. “Hey.” Ramuh’s dirty beard. Between that and the deep twilight of his eyes, it’s well and truly over.

“Hey yourself, Highness.” 

“Please tell me we’re not going straight back to the apartment. After a whole day of listening to a room full of people arguing, and Ignis riding my back about not listening to the arguing _better_ , I could use some arcade time.”

It’s the perfect opening. Nyx pauses and retrieves the lure from his uniform jacket. “How about some fishing instead?”

Nyx shouldn’t take as much pleasure in watching the emotions play out rapidfire over Noct’s face: shock, horror, and apprehension all topped off with a healthy dose of embarrassment, colouring Noct’s cheeks a faint pink.

“I, uh… wow. That obvious, huh?” Noct mutters, staring out the car window like he’s going to find the answer to all of life’s questions in the dull grey of the parking garage.

“A little. But Highness…” Nyx waits until Noct turns back to him, and then leans in and brushes a quick, chaste kiss against his lips. When Nyx draws back, he’s charmed by the deepening of the flush along Noct’s cheeks and neck. “Next time, you can just ask.”

“Noted,” Noct says hoarsely, uncertainty and desire battling it out in his eyes. “Could you, uh… kiss me again, then?”

Nyx does. Thoroughly.


	13. Cor/Ignis - Meaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Tags:** Sparring, mild references to depression

“Again.”

Ignis grimaces as he struggles to catch his breath. Cor’s had him doing the same drill for what must be close to two hours, though without his phone nearby, he has no way of confirming the time. Darkness is not only Eos’ constant companion, it’s Ignis’s, and he’s spent the better part of a year learning how to fight again.

How to not be a liability.

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Ignis.” The nuance in Cor’s voice has been made far more apparent now that Ignis can’t be distracted by the steely blue of his gaze, the memory of which has stayed crystal clear.

This particular nuance makes Ignis’s heart pound against his ribs, a different kind of demanding rhythm that has nothing to do with physical exertion. “Of course, Captain.” It’s hard to feel dignified whilst drenched in sweat and dressed in threadbare clothing suitable for training, but Ignis summons what resilience he can and calls a lance to hand, his connection with Noct’s magic one of the only things still in tact.

No one in possession of all their faculties would describe Cor as a soft man, but Ignis has learned the value of his other traits in the course of a year: in discipline, in consistency, in competence, in unshakeable self assurance. Perhaps Ignis has learned the value a little _too_ well. He’s come to rely on these sessions with Cor in ways that have far more to deal with his own personal desires rather than his combat prowess.

But above all, Cor has never _pitied_ Ignis, and pity is the one thing Ignis has had enough of to last the rest of his life.

There’s no more time for introspection once Cor barks out the order to begin. There’s only the feel of steel in his hands, the swing of his arm, the thump of the lance sticking to the target, and the process repeating again. Not only is this an exercise in accuracy without sight, it’s an exercise in stamina, in improving his other capabilities to make up for the lack of sight. When Gladio had first suggested training with Cor, Ignis had balked at the idea, but he’s long since come to see the benefits, both in his combat ability and in…

Well, his mood.

He doesn’t miss a single throw. 10 targets, 20 hits, all accompanied by the thud of success. Hopefully they’re in the correct areas for maximum damage, but at this point, Ignis is quite pleased with the improvement from when they began this venture.

“Better,” Cor declares, and Ignis can’t stop his heart from leaping into his throat at the praise.

“Thank you,” Ignis says, breathless again, adjusting his visor out of nervous habit. “I believe I’ll be ready to take the field again soon.” He pauses. “With your approval.”

Cor snorts, a noise Ignis has learned counts as a laugh for The Immortal. “If only everyone were as eager to take on daemonic hordes as you. I’d have a lot more soldiers to work with.” Heavy, booted footsteps indicate Cor’s approach.

“It’s important to me. I…” Ignis falters, unsure of how much he should confide in Cor. Perhaps it’s because he’s exhausted, perhaps it’s because he greatly admires the man now standing beside him, perhaps it’s because he’s lonely, but whatever the reason, Ignis lets the words flow freely. “I’ve always been motivated by purpose. With Noctis gone… joining the fight would give meaning to my days once more.”

There’s a pause, a shift, and suddenly Ignis can feel the heat radiating from Cor’s body, can smell the earthy spice of his sweat. “Why do you assume battle is the path to meaning?”

Ignis raises an eyebrow. “You’ll forgive me if I take that question with a grain of salt, given that it comes from one of Lucis’ most lauded soldiers.”

When Cor chuckles, Ignis feels the air leave his lungs in a rush, which makes it even harder to breathe when Cor takes hold of his bicep. “When you’ve been embroiled in as much death and chaos as I have, you learn to find meaning in unlikely places.” After a heartbeat, Cor’s face is so close that Ignis can feel his breath ghosting against his lips.

Pulled in by Cor’s gravitas, Ignis reaches one tentative hand up, running his fingertips in slow motion along the sharp line of his jaw, tracing out his features in bold sweeps. Cor doesn’t pull back and instead simply waits, as though waiting for Ignis to reach some forgone conclusion. As Ignis reaches Cor’s lips, he hesitates for the briefest instant before continuing his path, delineating the thin line.

“Don’t hesitate.” Cor speaks the words against Ignis’ fingertips, as confident as ever, though there’s a low husk to his tone that sends a shiver through Ignis.

Ignis slides his hand to the back of Cor’s neck and pulls him closer. As soon as their lips meet, Cor takes charge, licking into Ignis’ mouth like he belongs there, tasting of mint and giving one ragged exhale through his nose.

Perhaps he does belong there, Ignis thinks, and then he stops thinking altogether.


	14. Nyx/Ignis - Sharp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** E  
>  **Tags:** BDSM, knifeplay, blood

It’s an exercise in patience and self-control to make delicate, detailed patterns across Nyx’s skin with the point of his knife, jagged red lines outlining faded scars, but if there’s one thing Ignis prides himself on, it’s diligence. He’d considered gagging Nyx along with the blindfold and had decided against it; the decision proves fruitful when a long, quiet moan slips from between Nyx’s lips.

Ignis enjoys how vocal Nyx is during these sessions and far be it from him to deprive himself of the luxury.

“You’re already making such beautiful sounds for me and we’ve barely begun,” Ignis drawls, trailing the flat of the blade down Nyx’s chest.

“If it’s noise you want, I can—” The words break off in a choked gasp as Ignis teases Nyx’s navel with the tip of the knife, trailing the point down towards Nyx’s erection, which strains towards his stomach and weeps beads of clear precome.

“Don’t presume to tell me what I desire,” Ignis commands. He drags the flat of the blade feather light against the underside of Nyx’s cock. Were Nyx a new sub—and had they not played this scene out several times in the past—Ignis wouldn’t dare, but as it stands, Nyx holds utterly still in his bondage, the motion of his heaving chest the only movement Ignis can discern.

“Sir,” Nyx hisses through his teeth, head lolling in the gap of the x-cross he’s tied to.

“Much better,” Ignis murmurs. He leans in to kiss Nyx, slow and gentle, and as soon as Nyx yields to the kiss, he drags the edge of the blade against the outside of Nyx’s thigh, hard enough to leave a shallow cut down the length of it.

“Please,” Nyx begs, clearly gone already.

“Don’t worry,” Ignis whispers against Nyx’s ear, switching hands to leave a matching scratch down Nyx’s opposite thigh. “I always give you what you want. Eventually.”

His answering moan makes Ignis’s own arousal strain against his slacks, but if there’s a second thing he prides himself on, it’s patience, and the night is rather young.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated if you enjoyed. <3 Come find me over on [Tumblr](http://aliatori.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AliatoriEra).


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